A Sleepless Night
by lcf328
Summary: A threatening letter changes everything between Josh and Donna. One-shot. Takes place between Angel Maintenance and Evidence of Things Not Seen.


**Disclaimer: I don't own them.**

**Thanks to chai4anne for a very helpful beta! All mistakes are my own.**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm going home," Donna announced, standing in the doorway of Josh's office.

"Knocking off work early, huh?" Josh responded absently, barely looking up from the papers on his desk.

"It's after midnight."

"Slacker."

"Shut up."

Donna didn't move from Josh's doorway until he looked up at her.

"You okay getting home?"

"Oh sure. The middle of the night, an attractive, vulnerable young woman driving home alone…you know, a lot of times I end up having to park a few blocks away from my apartment."

"You want me to drive you?" She saw Josh's brow furrow slightly in concern.

"No," she lied. "Goodnight, Josh."

"'Night."

It was a mild April night, but Donna still shivered and pulled her coat more tightly around her as she walked through the front gates of the White House. She knew DC didn't exactly have the lowest crime rate in the country, but she didn't usually feel unsafe. But tonight was different.

She rarely got mail addressed to her at the White House, so she'd been curious and a little excited when she'd opened the plain white envelope with no return address. She hadn't been prepared for its contents.

"_I'm collecting all the guns you've banned, and there's a bullet with your name on it in each one."_

She hadn't told Josh about the letter. And she hadn't reported it to the Secret Service, at least not yet. She'd been about to. She'd been halfway down the hall to the Secret Service office with the letter when she'd turned around and gone back. Once she reported the letter, Josh would have to be told about it, and she couldn't help but worry about his reaction. She saw the way his body language still shifted whenever issues of guns or gun violence were discussed. And today was probably one of the worst possible days for him to hear about something like this. They'd just come off of the tense waiting game that had ensued when the landing gear indicator light had failed on Air Force One. It had been obvious to Donna that Josh was more shaken by the incident than he'd let on; as much as he'd assured everyone and probably on a rational level believed that the problem was a faulty light, she'd seen the anxiety on his face. She'd known "what if" scenarios were playing out in his head. She could always report the letter later, maybe next week; Josh didn't need one more thing to worry about right now. It didn't seem fair to upset him or even risk triggering his PTSD over what was undoubtedly just an empty threat from some idiot with far too much time on his hands.

Some idiot who was stockpiling guns.

She shuddered, and for a moment considered going back inside and taking Josh up on his offer for a ride home.

_Why? So whoever's gunning for you can shoot him too?_ She flinched as an image of a hospital waiting room and Toby's voice saying 'Josh was hit' flashed ever so briefly through her mind.

If she was honest, she acknowledged to herself, Josh's PTSD wasn't the only thing that made her hesitate to report the letter. It was one thing to see threatening emails on CJ's computer and sensibly insist that they should be reported; it was a whole other thing when the threats were directed at her. It wasn't that she thought she'd be assigned a Secret Service detail – she was a far cry from the Press Secretary, after all – but the thought of the Secret Service poring through her computer, checking out her home, and doing whatever else they did to determine whether a threat was credible, unnerved her. She didn't want to constantly feel like she was in danger, and once everyone knew about the letter, that was exactly how she would feel. Right now it was just one threat – a letter that could have been sent by a 12-year-old boy who'd taken to listening to Rush Limbaugh after school, for all she knew. It was something she could choose to ignore – or at least, try to ignore. Once it was reported, that option would be gone, and there was a part of her that wanted to delay that inevitability as long as possible.

She let out a long sigh, started the engine of her car, and began the drive home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

About twenty minutes later, Donna arrived safely at her apartment. Her roommate was out of town; it was always nice to have the place to herself. She changed into her nightgown and was about to climb into bed for a solid five hours' sleep when her phone rang. It was one of her oldest friends from Wisconsin, Jeanine. Jeanine's husband had just told her he wanted a divorce, for reasons he hadn't even bothered to try to explain. Donna's plans for sleep went out the window, and she spent the next two hours trying to console her friend and avoid saying 'I told you so.' She'd always thought Jeanine could do better. Jeanine and her husband had first met when Jeanine had gotten a job as his secretary. It had only taken him a few weeks to make a pass at her one night at the office when they were both working late. Jeanine had been receptive to his advances. For several months, the relationship had seemed to get its energy from the secrecy. They were both single, but they still met at restaurants 20 miles away from home to ensure no one from work would see them, that news of the affair wouldn't make its way to anyone in the company's HR department. Then he'd proposed to her, something that had seemed as impulsive as his decision to leave her now seemed. She'd quit her job, and they'd gotten married.

Donna had never thought he seemed like someone who was capable of the commitment and responsibility that marriage entailed. And she'd lectured Jeanine more than once about all the reasons why she shouldn't be dating her boss – and more to the point, why her boss shouldn't be dating her. Though Donna had to admit she'd begun thinking about that issue somewhat differently ever since she'd started working for Josh.

Finally, after Jeanine had cried and vented her anger until she was too exhausted to talk anymore, she and Donna hung up. Donna headed back to bed for at least three hours' sleep.

She had almost dozed off when there was a loud knock at the door. She instantly sat bolt upright, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly the emptiness of the apartment was terrifying. Had she remembered to lock the deadbolt? She was sure she had.

"DONNA!" she heard an all-too-familiar voice shout, and she felt a wave of relief followed quickly by rage. She got out of bed, threw on her bathrobe, ran a brush through her hair, and stormed down the hall, muttering curse words under her breath as she walked. Maybe she shouldn't have given him the security code to get into her building. As much fun as the snowball-throwing incident on Inauguration Day had been, she hadn't particularly wanted a repeat of it, but if this was the kind of thing he was going to do…

"You'd better have a damn good reason for-" she began as she opened the door. She froze when she saw the expression on his face. She couldn't quite describe it, but for a second she almost thought he was going to hug her. Her anger turned to worry. "Josh, what is it? What happened?"

His face hardened slightly. "What were you thinking, Donna?" he demanded, his voice slightly choked as he walked past her into her living room.

"What?"

"Come on, you know better than this. Rosslyn, CJ – we take all threats seriously. We report all threats to the Secret Service!" His voice rose, and his eyes flashed with an intensity that caught her off guard.

She swallowed. "How did you-"

"I was looking for the Landis memo on your desk. You know, if you were going to keep it a secret, you should probably have done a better job of hiding it than putting it face-up in your top drawer."

She bit her lip and looked down. "I'm sorry. I know I should have-"

"We're White House employees. We work 60 feet from the Oval Office. A threat against any one of us is a threat against the President. Did that ever occur to you?"

"I said I was sorry. But my God, what-" she paused. "It's three in the morning, Josh! You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night just to yell at me about this? You couldn't have waited and chewed me out at work?"

"You weren't answering your phone."

"What?"

"I kept calling your home phone, and your cell. You weren't answering."

"I was on the phone with a friend; my call waiting doesn't always work. And I guess I must have left my cell phone on silent. But what – what the hell's the matter with you? I repeat my question - is yelling at me just so much fun that you couldn't wait until morning, or what?" By the time she'd finished, she was yelling too.

"I had to make sure you were okay." His voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, and she heard the anger drop from his voice.

"What?"

"I couldn't get through to you on the phone, and it seemed strange that you weren't answering so late at night. So I just thought I should…"

"You came to my apartment at three in the morning just to make sure I hadn't been gunned down by a crazy person?"

"If you hadn't answered the door, I was going to call the police."

She felt a lump start to form in her throat as she studied his face. For the first time, she noticed the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead. His anger had only been on the surface. He'd actually been genuinely frightened.

"Josh-" she took a step toward him.

He looked away. "I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have…I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry." He turned and started walking toward the door.

"Josh, wait."

He turned back to face her. "You know, I'm not so sure you should stay here tonight. We don't know who we're dealing with – he might know where you live. Maybe you should get a hotel room."

"You're being ridiculous. It's just a threat. Just like the thousands I'm sure the President gets every week. It's not serious."

"You don't know that. Until the Secret Service has a chance to check it out-"

"I'm not getting a hotel room."

"Then I'm sleeping on your couch."

She met his eyes, her heart warming over his concern for her. She quickly cut that off that line of thought. _It's not about you, you idiot, _she scolded herself. _It's the PTSD._ She felt a pang of guilt. She hadn't told him about the threat in part because she was worried about triggering his PTSD, but now by keeping quiet about it, that was exactly what she'd done.

"I'm sorry, Josh. I'm really sorry. I should have reported the letter. There's no excuse."

"Donna-"

"But I'm fine. My building has good security. You don't need to worry."

"Why you, Donna?" he demanded. "Of all the people in the White House, all the President's high-profile advisors – Leo, Toby, CJ, me – not to mention the President himself – why would he send that letter to you, of all people? Don't you think that's odd? The Secret Service did, when I showed them the letter. They didn't seem to think it was likely that a random kook would pick you to target."

"You mean because I'm just a lowly assistant?" she retorted, although that same question had occurred to her and made her more than a little uneasy.

"You're not in the news! I checked – not so much as a caption in a photograph since you met with that communist last winter."

"Well, gun nuts probably don't like communists much. Maybe that's what did it."

"This isn't funny!"

"Did I say it was?"

"Have there been others?" he demanded suddenly.

"Other what?"

"Other letters. Other threats. Was this the only one, or have you gotten others that you didn't tell me about?" He began pacing slightly in her living room.

"Josh, no."

"No?"

"No." She took a deep breath. "Josh, look. I think maybe you should give Stanley Keyworth a call in the morning."

"Stanley?" He stared at her. "Donna, that's not what this is. This isn't…about Rosslyn."

"You're standing in my living room in the middle of the night because you were worried I'd been shot to death."

"Because someone threatened to shoot you! It's not like it came out of the blue."

She bit her lip, trying to put herself in his shoes. If she'd come across a letter like that on his desk directed at him, and then hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone, it was entirely possible she might have shown up at his doorstep in a panic, too. But that was different. She'd had a pretty intense crush on him since basically the first day she'd met him – okay, at this point, she was pretty sure it was more than just a crush – but she certainly didn't harbor any illusions that he felt the same way about her. He liked women like Amy Gardner and Joey Lucas – educated, successful career women. Brunettes. Not blond secretaries who had never even finished college.

"You're not my bodyguard, Josh," she told him. "It's not your job to keep me safe."

"Of course it is!" He sat down on the couch. She sat beside him. "I'm your boss. You work for me. If anything happens to you, it's my fault, so I'm gonna make damn sure that never happens."

"What?" She blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, your fault?"

"Come on, Donna, you said so yourself. If anything happens to you, it's going to be because you were sitting next to me, and-"

"I didn't mean it like that, Josh!" She stared at him in astonishment. Had that actually been his takeaway from what she'd said? She'd told him she didn't want to be an 'also-dead', an afterthought whose name a reporter would get wrong after a hypothetical wild dog attack – and what he'd heard was, 'If anything happens to me, it's your fault'?

_It's like he walks around every day thinking someone he likes is going to die and it's going to be his fault,_ she observed silently. She knew Joanie's death all those years ago continued to have a profound impact on him, but she sometimes forgot just _how_ much it shaped him and the way he thought.

She put a hand on his arm. "I didn't mean it would be your fault. You can't possibly think I meant that. I just meant…I want to be valuable."

He turned to her, a hint of a smile forming on his face. "You are."

"I mean…not just to you. To the President. To the country. To the world."

"You are."

"Not like you and Toby and CJ and everyone else in that building! You have your law degree. CJ has her master's degree. You know how to do things…how get bills through Congress, how to advise the President on foreign policy, how to…change the world. Watching all of you makes me want that for myself. But I wouldn't even know where to start. I mean, I'm the girl who dropped out of college to put her loser boyfriend through med school. I'm just an assistant, and I'm starting to think that's all I'll ever be." Her voice was shaking slightly by the time she'd finished. She wasn't sure she'd actually realized how much she wanted all of that until she'd said it out loud.

He turned in the couch so he was facing her. "Let's clear one thing up: you're not 'just' anything. Degree or no degree, there's probably half a dozen people in the country who could do your job as well as you do. You think I could have made it two years in this job, let alone through the MS scandal and into a second term, without you? That's pretty rare, you know. Most senior White House aides burn out in 18 months or so." He paused. "Second of all, you have options. You could go back to school."

"Yeah, right. In all my free time?"

"Charlie's managing it on top of his White House schedule, not to mention taking care of his sister. How, I don't know. I sometimes wonder if he discovered some secret of the universe whereby he was able to obtain an extra 12 hours in each day, but I suppose that's not very likely."

"He is a little freakish that way."

Josh met her eyes. "Also, if anything ever happened to you, I'd kick the ass of any reporter who got your name wrong."

She smiled. "In my scenario, you'd be dead too, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

They gazed into each other's eyes for several long moments. Almost involuntarily, she started leaning closer to him, and she became aware of him doing the same. Then his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her. She wound her arms around him, too stunned to do anything but kiss him back. Her heart was racing. She felt his hand slip under her bathrobe, against the thin satin of her nightgown, his fingers running lightly up her back. She let out a soft moan of pleasure, her mind nearly blank. What was this? Could Josh actually want what it sure seemed like he wanted? She was an attractive woman, she was well aware of that. Maybe not a brunette, maybe not Josh's type, exactly, but he was a red-blooded male who was alone with her in her apartment late at night. She thought about Jeanine's husband and how that relationship had started. Not that Josh was anything like him, but maybe there was something about flings with subordinates that was intrinsically attractive to men. Donna didn't want a one-night-stand with Josh; she wanted more than that. But if one night was all she could have…

Josh abruptly pulled back. "We can't…"

"Right." She leaned back on the couch, drawing in a deep breath.

Josh looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry, Donna. That was…incredibly inappropriate. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." The strain of sounding casual was almost more than she could manage, but she was determined not to let him see what that kiss had just done to her psyche. She did her best to sound flip when she added, "Believe me, you're not the first man in the world to be tempted to sleep with his secretary."

"Sleep with my secretary?" She was startled by the note of hurt in Josh's voice.

"Assistant. Whatever."

"Is that what you think that was? You think I'd do that to you?"

"Josh, it's okay. I was into it too. But it's a bad idea, you're right. I mean, the awkwardness at work if we were to have a one-night-stand…"

"A _one-night-stand_?" His voice rose slightly. He got up from the sofa and stood with his back to her, running his fingers through his hair.

She stood and approached him. "Josh-"

He turned to face her. "It wouldn't just be a bad idea, Donna. It would be an unfathomable disaster. In addition to all the multitude of reasons why that kind of relationship is _always_ a bad idea, we work at the White House. If it got out – and these things always get out. Look at Sam and Laurie. If – _when_ – it got out, do you have any idea what would happen? It would embarrass the President. I'd probably have to resign. And you? You were just telling me you want a real career. You think you'd ever have one in this city if you got a very public reputation for sleeping with your boss? You'd never be taken seriously again. I wouldn't do that to you. And I'd never even _think_ about doing it to anyone for a one-night-stand."

"You kissed me!" she pointed out, bewildered.

"I know. I'm sorry!"

"I'm not looking for an apology, Josh. But if you wouldn't even think of having a one-night-stand with me, then why…?"

He stared at her for a long moment. When he spoke, he sounded almost helpless. "It isn't obvious how I feel about you?"

Instantly her heart was in her throat. "What?"

"It's okay. Believe me, I know you don't feel the same way. I've always tried to keep it to myself. I figured you probably saw through that, but it's good…I'm glad you didn't."

Tears formed in her eyes. "Josh-"

He let out a loud sigh. "I shouldn't have said anything. Forget I did. However I feel – it's my problem. It has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry if I've just…messed everything up between us."

"You didn't."

"This shouldn't have happened. None of it. I should never have come down here. I'm sorry, Donna. I'll leave now. Be sure to lock your door." He turned and started to leave.

"I do feel the same way!" she called after him, her voice shaking with tears.

He turned back to her. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not just saying that! I've always felt the same way. I can't believe _you_ didn't know." She walked up to him until she was standing just inches away from him.

"You…do?"

"Yes." She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. She was amazed to see tears welling in his eyes.

"Donna…" His voice caught.

She leaned forward and kissed him. He returned the kiss for a moment, and then pulled back again. "We can't...we still can't."

"I'll quit my job."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to ask."

"Quit your job and do what? Go back and take that job offer at that Internet start-up?"

"No," she smiled sheepishly. "It went under six months ago."

Josh chuckled. "Told you this job would be around longer."

"I'll find something. I'll get a job on the Hill. Or work for a non-profit. Or-"

"You work for President Bartlet, Donna. There's nothing that beats that. I can't let you give that up. I won't." He gazed into her eyes. "And I don't really think you want to give it up."

She glanced away. It was true; she didn't. The thought broke her heart. And not just because she wouldn't be working for the President, but also because she wouldn't be working with Josh. She wouldn't get to see him every day when she arrived at work. She wouldn't get to banter with him in the bullpen, wouldn't get to watch him as he wrangled with senators and got unbearably cocky over victories and beat himself up far more than he deserved over defeats. She knew she would miss him terribly. And then of course there was the age-old dilemma: if she got romantically involved with him and things didn't work out, she wouldn't just be losing a boyfriend. She'd also be losing her best friend.

But she was in love with him, and now that she knew he felt the same way about her, there was no going back. Things between them would never be the way they used to be again. All she could do was hope they could make them into something better.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he responded hoarsely. "I can talk to Leo about a transfer for you…but it would have to be a real promotion. Something better than what you're doing now. Until then…"

"Until then we can just be together and not tell anyone?"

He smiled softly. "I don't think that would be a very good idea, do you?"

"I guess not." She met his eyes. "I've waited five years for you. I can wait a little longer."

"Me too." He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

She smiled. "Do you still want to sleep on my couch?"

"Guess there's not really much point in going back to my place. I have to be at the White House in about two hours anyway."

"You don't _have_ to sleep on the couch, you know," she couldn't resist offering seductively.

He gazed at her, looking almost mesmerized, and for a moment she thought he was going to throw caution to the wind. But then he shook his head. "Yeah. I do."

She nodded. "I'll get some blankets."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So you're sure the shooter is the same guy who sent Donna the note?" Josh asked Ron Butterfield the next day as he and Donna sat in his office with the Secret Service director, after bullets had hit the window of the White House Press Room and the building had gone into lockdown for several hours.

"He admitted to it during interrogation."

"Why?" Donna asked. "Was it the picture with the communist?"

"No, it appears it was something else. He's from North Dakota."

"North Dakota?" Donna blinked. "You mean…"

"Apparently he didn't like the idea of the federal government weighing in on what his state's name should be. So when you made that trip down there on behalf of the White House, he saw you as the face of big government."

"All I did was read a statement!"

Ron shrugged. "Anyway, as I said earlier, we're confident he was working alone. He's just a deeply disturbed individual. He was hoping he could force a Secret Service agent to shoot him and go out in a blaze of glory. There should be no further danger to you."

"Thank you, Ron."

"Thanks," Josh echoed. "You guys did a hell of a job today."

"Thank you," Ron said before leaving the office.

"Wow. North Dakota," Josh shook his head. "That's the last time I'm sending you there."

"With any luck, pretty soon you won't be in a position to send me any place for work."

Josh nodded. He'd told her all about his talk with Leo that morning. Josh had been as tactful as possible, saying he thought Donna deserved a promotion – but not into any position that he, Josh, supervised. Leo had quickly concluded that either Josh and Donna had had a major falling out, or the opposite had happened, and the smile on Josh's face had made it clear which of those two scenarios was the case.

"You're sure you still want to transfer out of your job just so you can date a guy ten years older than you with a receding hairline?" Josh asked. "I mean, now that Joe Quincy's going to be around…"

"I told you. I'll only be pretending to think he's handsome around here at the office, so others won't suspect."

"Right." Josh chuckled, then gazed at her affectionately. "Anyway, back to work."

She nodded and stood up, glancing to make sure his door was closed and then giving him a quick kiss before leaving his office and returning to her desk.


End file.
